


not even a queen can have it all

by teavious



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5977405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teavious/pseuds/teavious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a world where Attolia is nothing more than a cruel queen in the eyes of Eugenides. This is a world where the Thief doesn't exist anymore, and so things are solved the traditional way: through war, with the sword, paying in blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not even a queen can have it all

**Author's Note:**

> This is me exploring some more "what if" universes, mostly expanding what you can already find in my other fic, "aienkien". I'm never over this series.

Eugenides remembers little of his mother: a cheeky smile, a hand always brushing his father’s hair, the sound of her dresses as she kneels to his level to teach him tricks with coins and jewels. He keeps these memories deep in his heart, cherishes them as last proof of the existence of a Thief, and thinks sourly of his grandfather who left one day, together with the promise of making something great out of Gen, only to never return.

He puts his force in training together with his father, bonding with him over common losses and muscle pain, lunches spent with loud men and evenings spinning stories together with his cousins, who are still weary of his quick to steal and knot laces hands, but like him a little bit more for still being so like them, with just the littlest of weird turns. He still likes Helene best, because he can tease her and she always has a line prepared to put him in place, like the queen she is to be. She sighs at his antics and smiles and loves him anyway. When she becomes queen, she makes him the head of her guard, and it seems amusing to all involved that he’s so small and short and so great already. His father loves it though, prouder of this achievement more than of anything else.

Eddis takes Gen to rides, him holding tightly to her, arms around her waist, a shriek he will never admit to have gotten out in her ear and the happiest of laughs on her lips. He gets used to it eventually, the more it happens, and keeping his mouth shut and a frown on while riding makes him look more like the captain he is supposed to be.

* * *

 

The two neighboring countries come to celebrate the coming on throne of Eddis. Attolia shivers in her thin gowns, the sound of her guards and maids following her everywhere, the terrified bows of servants reason enough to make her not want to speak to any of them about her accommodation problem. This is new, yet, being called majesty and treated like one, after having people look down upon her for so long. She likes it, but she’s also afraid of it.

When the captain of Eddis’ guard welcomes her, he’s smiling like he’s actually glad she’s there and she only arches her eyebrow and passes him by without any greeting. She needs twenty minutes in her room to get that friendly gesture out of her system, because up until now she had only enemies smile that sweetly to her, so the first thing she does when she meets the young queen is to warn her.

She knows she’s gripping her arm a little too tightly, but she doesn’t have time to be diplomatic with that many eyes searching for them, and so her warnings are a mix of hissing and hushed sentences and Eddis knows it all. She saw it on the faces of Attolia’s attendants; she heard it from her own people who visited the other country. She sees it right now on the face of this other queen, and the only thing she can do is push a glass of drink in her hand and promise that everything will be all right.

Attolia’s hands continue to shake the whole night, as she’s drinking the strong beverage of these mountain people, as she’s passing from one of queen’s cousins to the other. They’re all stiff and formal, slowing the dance to spare her of their traditional, quick steps, and she gets bored of being so taken care of quickly.

Then she’s in the hold of the guard's captain, and this time he’s looking at her like he’s judging her for the crimes she did, even in the name of justice and rightness. She raises her head a little higher, looks down at this boy who dares think he can blame someone like her, and quickens her steps. He’s surprised for that one second, and Attolia feels like grinning. For the rest of the song, he’s taking her in his arms, keeping her a breath away, only to push her away the next beat, and by the end of it, she’s breathless and red-faced and her hair is falling in her face.

“You’re beautiful, your majesty, but cruel.”

She bares her teeth for him in a parody of a smile, and excuses herself.

* * *

 

Gen continues to often dance, though he’s as much of a fan of it as the queen. But a duty is a duty, and with his new title come new opportunities as well. He’s never been too loved by the ladies of the court; he is one of the youngest in the family, but suddenly, wearing a royal uniform, there’s a swarm of girls all around him, waiting to dance with him. He smiles to all of them, but invites only those that will prove good company, and he can swear he’s hearing his father laughing at him.

Not many girls are bothered by his attitude, not with all he owns and he can give later on. No one presses him to take this step, but he does ask a nice, quiet girl to marry him. She’s gentle and educated and she excitedly gasps when she sees all his books, and at least that brings a smile on his lips. His father likes his daughter-in-law to death and Eddis takes her to walks. She always prepares teas for Gen when he comes home late from training, but she doesn’t prove too much of a challenge. She fulfills her duties as a wife, even happily so, and Gen is not sure what more can he ask for, but he’s still not entirely satisfied.

* * *

 

The barons all come to her one day, after many subtle attempts of relying the same message. They ask her, nicely, to get one of them as her husband; even married ones insisting of being suitable for this position, as long as they quietly get rid of their wives. The alternative she knows too well: being dragged down from this throne or dying during the night through an assassination made to seem accident.

The queen chokes back a _no_ , eyes frantically searching for someone agreeing with her in the crowd. She straightens on her cold, uncomfortable chair and says it again, louder this time: **no**.

The guards unsheathe their swords. The nobles' clothes rustle as they gather closer in a circle, their weapons insufficient in front of the small army surrounding them.

One bold man steps forward, proudly refusing to look down even as one of queen's eyebrows arches.

"You're nothing without us, your majesty." The whole hall notices him not using _my queen._ "Your army is nothing without our money and your rule is meaningless if you don't obey us."

A finger twitches in Attolia's lap. The guard captain is holding a bow, just as he once did, and with that signal, he fires an arrow straight between the daring noble's eyes. He falls with a noise that is far too loud in the stunned room.

"I didn't become queen by obeying men like you."

There's the bitterest of disgust in her tone, and when she raises from the throne, her clothes swipe the floor.

"Gentlemen."

There's a nod in the direction of the nobles, but she doesn't even look at them as she's passing by. Behind every step of hers, there's the sound of hands grasping weapons, and by the time the last two guards positioned at the entrance open the doors for her, all those opposing her are dead.

There are droplets of blood on her gown, as she's escorting the Mede ambassador for a walk in the gardens, and he's complimenting her for the realistic patterns and she wishes she could do the same thing to him too, to every single man who looks at her and sees a girl who needs any of them. She needs her country wealthy and her people fed, her rule peaceful and her heart contained. But not even a queen can have it all.

The maid's hands, as she's brushing Attolia's hair, are shaking. The queen looks at a pair of red earrings, the same color as blood, and she thinks she deserves this present, and much worse. They all ask for peace, for what she so desperately tries to keep. She’s not sure she can do it for much longer, though, and when Eddis ask for an official answer to her requests, Attolia answers all the same: **no**.

* * *

 

Eddis’ army marches, having their queen and her captain opening the road. Gen leaves his wife at home and Eddis has the promise of a husband, the young Sounis, by her side, together with his armies.

Their battles are easily won, like the whole country prefers just getting through this, rather than keeping its hope. Attolia’s army dissolves, as fear pulls stronger than gold. There are, still, those loyal to what might as well be the greatest ruler of their country in the past century, and they protect the palace to their dying gasp. Attolia remembers the name of one of them – Costis, and she thanks them all, just as she hears weapons hitting the stone floors, from where she sits on her throne that she swore to herself she won’t leave if others will fall because of her leave.

She still harbored the small hope of the Mede Empire to come and give her a helping hand, even if that meant selling her country. Alive, at least, she could’ve still protected it in some way, but maybe the queen who was so kind to the cruel queen would be better for those that Attolia loved so desperately.

Teleus is at her right, and Relius to her left; they sit there with her, stubbornly, even as she urges, from time to time, for them to go. Two maids are also in the room, and these four people and the last of her guard still fighting are the only ones that she managed to get by her side, that she somehow convinced she’s worth dying for.

Then, Eddis’ army marches into the throne room, all bloody with her country’s blood, and suddenly the crown on her head is too heavy. Gen smiles at her, in a wicked sort of way, maybe this – rushing into places that bring him glory, the only feeling that matches his needs.

In four large strides, he’s resting his sword at the queen’s throat.

“We’re here to take your country.”

He needn’t have claimed it that obviously, but Attolia laughs anyway, hollowly. For her, the oxygen in this world stopped existing, her chest painfully heaving, the smell of oranges filling her senses, mockingly.

“Do you have any idea how many others have tried that already?”

“But only a Thief’s successor will succeed.”

His sword goes to her crown, taking it off with the tip, almost tenderly. Irene closes her eyes, sighing like she’s finally free, and takes advantage of that one second of no one paying attention to her to put a gun to Gen’s temple.

He grins. More of his army storms through the doors, arrows pointed at her, swords ready to take out what’s left of her court. She lets go of her weapon, and it drops in Gen’s ready hands. Irene sits straight, still like a queen, because she refuses to die like her father or brother, assassinated while in despair.

“Let the others live.”

She doesn’t need to continue the sentence, that she’ll come with them willingly if they promise her that much, that she has  no way to know if they’ll do as she asks. But Eddis smiles at her as she enters the throne room, and at least this is in good hands. She knows this queen doesn’t want her to die, but she also doesn’t want to risk an alliance between the Mede Empire and the last survivor of Attolia’s royal house. Attolia nods, because she can understand.

Relius and Teleus drop to the floor at the same time, proclaiming her their queen for the last time, and she thanks them with the faintest voice they ever heard from her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [tumblr](http://teavious.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
